


The Great Wall

by Jujux



Series: Howling at the Sun [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Robert's Rebelion, Dragonlord Jon Snow, F/M, Jon/Jaehaerys is a Prince, R Plus L Equals J, Skinchanging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25225123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jujux/pseuds/Jujux
Summary: Enemies are revealed.
Relationships: Implied Jon Snow/Rhaenys Targaryen
Series: Howling at the Sun [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1422262
Comments: 16
Kudos: 46





	The Great Wall

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot ended up being much longer than I expected, so I decided to split it into two parts. I suppose it's a two-shots(???) now.
> 
> For those who are familiar with the main story, please be advised that I changed the name of Rhae's dragon to Haelyx. It's basically a valyrianizied version of Helios.
> 
> Also, while I am aware that canonically the Targaryens were using saddles tied with chains to ride their dragons, I will be using scale manipulation in this universe.

#### THE DRAGON IN THE NORTH – THE WALL

“The Others?” the imposing Lord Mormont asked, his voice confused, but not nearly as sceptical as Jaehaerys expected. 

“Corn!” The crow on the Lord Commander’s broad shoulder was no less confused than its master.

They were beyond the Wall, at half the distance between the Great Wall itself and the forest growing about a thousand feet from it and offering shelter to the large wildling army. They were there for talks with the self-proclaimed King Beyond the Wall, Mance Rayder. 

Half of dozen wildlings were standing in front of them, five men and a woman, all watching with grim faces. All but their leader who had an easy smile plastered on his face.

Jaehaerys heard that Mance Rayder, who was once a man of the Night Watch, has earned most of the tribes’ loyalty by fighting their leaders and forcing them to submit. The wildling king wasn’t a particularly impressive man, he was of average height and looked quite slender, but Jae learned a long time ago that one should never judge a book by its cover - appearances could often be deceiving. 

“What’s this about, wildling? You call us here for talks only to laugh in our faces? To serve us your ghost stories?” Lord Umber thundered. “I ought to cut out your lying tongue right here, in front of your people!” There were very few things the Greatjon hated more than wildlings. 

“Try you can, kneeler. But only death you will find.” These wildlings were an odd bunch, that was for sure, but the one who spoke in a hissed voice was easily the queerest of them all. A small man dressed in a strange armour made of loosely tied bones that clattered every time he moved. On his head, instead of a helm, the man wore what Jaehaerys could only assume was a giant’s skull – yellow and broken, similar yet different from that of a man. And much larger. Jae wondered how much use that bone armour had in a battle... Likely none beyond annoying his enemies with its rattling.

“Har!” Another wildling spoke loudly. This one had a great white beard and an even greater belly. His gut could barely be contained by the ringmail he was wearing. “You kneelers are all lip and no cock!” Jaehaerys assumed that this wildling was perhaps some strong chieftain. Besides his ringmail, he also wore a pair of golden bands engraved with First Men runes around his arms, no doubt looted from some poor soul that found himself at the end of the wildling’s axe. The prince reckoned that the man possessed some sort of strength in order to keep his riches safe on this part of the Wall. Jae had little interest in the man’s gold, but the black horn that was tied around the wildling’s neck quickly grabbed his attention. Black as the deepest night, yet with cracks all over it that looked as if they were filled with fire. It was the first time Jaehaerys has seen or heard of such a horn.

Jaehaerys ignored the argument in front of him and set his eyes on another wildling. A thin man with a face so flat that looked like it was hit with a pan repeatedly. A skinchanger, Jaehaerys could instantly tell. It looked like the man could recognize him as well, because he nodded towards Jae in recognition. 

The prince didn’t acknowledge the man in any way, as his attention was demanded by Ghost instead. The direwolf appeared from the woods about half a mile from where they were standing, his white coat easily hiding his presence from the others. 

As soon as they crossed the Wall, Jae sent his direwolf to scout the wildling army. He wasn’t pleased with what he learned. Tens of thousands armed men and women taking cover in the thick woods. Perhaps even more.

“No filthy wilding will pass the Wall while I’m around! I won’t agree to it!” the Greatjon boasted loudly. 

“Last time I checked you weren’t the one in charge, Umber!” Jaime hissed from next to Jaehaerys. The prince and his Kingsguard were standing a couple of steps behind the other three people that came with them: the Greatjon Umber, his son - the Smalljon, and the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, Jeor Mormont. 

Jaime was unrecognizable with his famous golden armour buried deep under what seemed to be every available piece of fur within a hundred miles. 

Jaehaerys never had any problems with the freezing weather, he was yet to meet a cold that he couldn’t chase away with just a thick cloak. He was a descendant of the Kings of Winter, after all, his ancestors would likely roll in their graves if he were a thin-skinned fool like Jaime. 

Although Jae couldn’t blame the Kingsguard, for some strange reason it was much colder beyond the Wall than within the Seven Kingdoms. And a nasty unwelcoming cold wind whistled in their ears disdainfully, as if it was telling them that they didn’t belong on this side of the wall.

“Mind your fucking business, Kingslayer!” Umber snapped back and Jaehaerys’ jaw tensed in annoyance. These two fools were acting like two horny roosters around a hen in heat every time they were within ten feet of each other. 

As soon as he heard the word ‘Kingslayer’, the easy smile on Mance Ryder’s face vanished. His sharp brown eyes swept over them and eventually settled on Jaehaerys. Jae wasn’t surprised, the man was clearly no fool, he managed to bring most wildling tribes under his command, after all.

“That’s enough!” Jae stopped Jaime from walking towards the Greatjon with a hand on his chest. His hand easily sank in the ridiculous amount of fur Jaime was wearing.

He glared at the Greatjon too, who looked like he was ready to continue his argument, if not for his son quickly grabbing his shoulder and stopping him.

“My apologies, Prince Jaehaerys, I didn’t recognize you,” Mance Rayder’s face was now as grim as the other wildlings.

“How could you recognize me? Have we met before?” Jae asked curiously. Jaehaerys couldn’t blame Mance, his dark hair and eyes didn’t really set him apart from any other Northern lord and his armour and sword were well hidden beneath his heavy black cloak. He figured he could even pass as a brother of the Night's Watch if he wanted to. Jaehaerys couldn’t even remember the last time he wore anything else but black - it must have been back in King’s Landing. 

Black was always his colour, after all.

“Aye, a few years back I visited Winterfell pretending to be a bard. I even sang and played my harp at one of Brandon Stark’s feasts. Made a pretty coin too.” The smile was back on the wildling leader’s face, but Jaehaerys could tell that it was tense now, a far cry from the easy one he wore before. His brown eyes were darting towards the sky every other heartbeat.

“Ah, yes. And then you sneaked into the lord’s chamber and left a turd thicker than your arm under his bedclothes,” Jaehaerys said drily, drawing a chuckle from Jaime. “Is this how you convinced these people to follow you? Drowning them in tall stories with your silver tongue and your poorly stringed harp? Promising them glory and riches, when you know well enough that they would only find death?” 

From the information Jaehaerys had on the wildlings, he knew that they weren’t friendly against each other. They waged war between themselves just as often as they warred with the Northerners south of the wall. Jae figured that Mance’s grip over the wildling army was not particularly strong so he decided to throw some seeds of doubt around, perhaps something would grow.

“You got a good tongue on you, princeling,” the wildling woman spoke, chuckling. A red-haired girl, with wide eyes and a mouth full of crooked teeth. “I like that on a man. If you’re still drawing breath when we’re done with your lot, I might steal you for myself. There aren’t many pretty faces like yours on this side of the Wall.” 

Jaehaerys nearly groaned out loud when he heard Jaime release a sound that could only be described as a giggle. He was not likely to hear the end of this any time soon.

“Tall stories come to life on this part of the Wall, Prince Jaehaerys,” Mance Rayder spoke in a serious voice, ignoring the red-haired girl. 

“Death!” Lord Mormont’s crow flew from the Lord Commander’s shoulder and landed between the two groups, croaking from one to another, as if it was some lord trying to appease a feud between two tenants. “Death! Death! Death!” 

Jaehaerys narrowed his eyes at the bird. _’All crows are liars’_ , Old Nan of Winterfell always used to say. The old lady spat and cursed every time she saw a crow. Perhaps it was because of Old Nan that Jae always thought that there was something strange about the Lord Commander’s raven.

“You expect us to believe your stories? That you are attacking the Wall because you are scared of some ice demons?”

Jaehaerys wasn’t a stranger to the legend of the Others. Or other legends, for that matter. King Rhaegar loved to tell his children stories before bed. They were usually old legends from all over the world, legends of magic and heroes, things that Rhaegar read in one old tome or another. And the legend of the Others was Rhaegar’s favourite.

After the king’s passing, Jaehaerys retained his father’s love for reading and the curiosity about all sorts of things, mythical or not. Although, unlike his father, who had a more romanticized view on things, Jaehaerys tended to be much more pragmatic.

It was one of the reasons that he stayed behind at the Wall when Rhae flew to Summerhall. To search and read in the old library in Castle Black, which contained many works unavailable elsewhere.

According to the books he read, the Others were supposed to be men made of living ice capable of raising and controlling the dead. Some sort of skinchanging, Jae suspected.

“They’re never far, princeling,” another wildling spoke. This one was bald and had no ears. He was likely Styr, the Magnar of Thenn. “They always cling to our heels.” The Thenn were said to be the most advanced tribe beyond the Wall, although looking at the man one could not help but doubt that information. He was wearing crude armour and weapons made of bronze, the kind that the people in the Seven Kingdoms stopped using thousands of years back.

“I tell no lies, Prince Jaehaerys,” Mance Rayder said firmly. “They always watch and people are missing almost every night. If we don’t get behind that wall, we are all going to die.”

“And what do you think it will happen if you attack the Wall?” Jaehaerys asked. “You were of the Night Watch, you claim to have visited Winterfell, you know what kind of power I wield. Your army here is no more than an ant under a boot for a dragon.” Jaehaerys moved his eyes over the wildlings and settled on the big-bellied chieftain, since he appeared to wield some sort of power. “Do you know what dragonfire does to a man? It grabs you, it clings to you like a loving woman. You can scream and beg, roll in the snow, but it won’t let go until it devours you. It will start with your furs, then move to your skin and flesh, and it will keep feasting on you until only a pile of black bones remain.”

Jaehaerys was quite pleased with himself, it was an impressive speech. It should make these wildlings think twice before attacking.

Of course, it was also a big load of crap. 

In truth, Nyx refused to fly over the Great Wall. It was the same with Rhaenys’ dragon, Haelyx. There was something in that wall, something ancient that kept the magic from crossing. Even his connection with Ghost was broken when they were on different sides of the Wall. 

If the wildlings decided to attack, they’ll have to do without his dragon. Their position was far from an enviable, as only the Umber men got there so far, since they were the closest to Castle Black. But if they could delay the attack for another week or two, the rest of the Northern armies summoned by Jaehaerys would arrive and the wildling army will be no more than lambs to the slaughter in front of all the Northern might.

Unfortunately, it appeared that his speech wasn’t as impressive as he thought. Chieftain Big Belly just shrugged unconcernedly. “I don’t know about this dragon you speak of, kneeler, but I’d rather die swallowed by fire than have the White Walkers take my body and use it to kill my kin,” the man spoke determinedly. 

If the return of the Others were lies, these wildlings were quite committed to their mummery. 

Jaehaerys was hardly one to be dismissive of magic or all sorts of creatures, but how could they explain the fact that none of the Night's Watch scouting parties encountered them? He was told that about a couple of dozen rangers disappeared beyond the Wall in the last few moons, but from what he understood, it was not that uncommon. Men deserted or found their death at the end of wildling blades or at the fangs of one beast or another quite often.

“Have you anything that can prove your claims to be true?” Jaehaerys asked Mance. “Except for your word, which means less than nothing to us.”

“We do not.” Mance sighed.”They are being careful not to lose any wights. They have sharp wits. How could they not? The Others are as old as time. They come in the night and herd us like fucking sheep.” The other wildlings nodded solemnly at Mance’s words, even the feisty one dressed in bone armour looked gloomy. “It’s the reason why I insisted on these talks. The Others pushed us here for a reason. They likely want us to kill each other and the last thing I want us to do is what those frozen fuckers want.”

“You mean to tell us that you savages were ready to throw away your steel and pick up embroidery when the Others themselves came and forced you to attack the Wall?” the Greatjon thundered in a mocking tone. “That’s quite a story, wildling!” the Greatjon bellowed in laughter, along with his son.

“If these Others actually exist,” Jaime also spoke, “it appears that they are on our side.” The Kingsguard seemed amused by the Greatjon’s words, but he restrained himself from showing it. Likely out of spite.

Mance Rayder ignored the mocking men in front of him and kept his eyes on Jaehaerys. “You understand why is not in your interest for us to die, do you not, lad?”

He understood well enough. Every dead man was another soldier for the Others.

If what Mance said was true. 

Jaehaerys was surprised to realize that he wasn’t dismissing Mance’s words, as he perhaps ought to do. 

“I understand well enough. But you should put yourself in my position and tell me how does this whole affair look from where I am standing?” he spoke calmly. “An army of tens of thousands are demanding entrance in the Seven Kingdoms, claiming that they are hunted by the Others themselves and their army of the dead? The same Others that vanquished ten thousand years back never to be seen again, if they even existed in the first place?” 

“I am aware how this all sounds,” Mance nodded. “I must look like a proper fool. But even so, I decided for this meeting even with only our words as proof. I would rather not bring down the Wall.”

“Bring down the wall?” Jae asked sceptically and looked over his shoulder at the monstrous ice barrier behind him. 

“Aye, we came prepared,” Mance said seriously and patted the big-bellied chieftain on the shoulder. “Before you stands Tormund Giantsbane, Tall-talker, Husband to Bears, Speaker to Gods, and Mead-king of Ruddy Hall.”

“That be me!” the man, Tormund, boomed.

“We also call him the Horn-blower. The best set of lungs on this side of the wall,” Mance said, as the man called Tormund puffed his chest in pride. “And we found him a horn worthy of his talent. The Horn of Joramun is called.”

Jaehaerys immediately knew of which horn Mance spoke. The black one hanging on Tormund’s neck. 

The Horn of Joramun was said to be a magic horn with great power. Some even claimed that it could bring down the Wall, if one was to blow it.

“That sounds even more ridiculous than your ice demon story, Rayder.” Although Jaehaerys had a bad feeling about that horn, there was nothing to be gained by showing it. 

“Perhaps, but that does not make it untrue,” Mance said and just chuckled at Jae’s doubtful look.

“Perhaps not,” Jaehaerys admitted, “but is still way more likely to be untrue, than true. But you don’t appear to be a half-wit, so you likely know that. Just like you know that all this lip service is useless. We are not going to let you in unless we can see one of those things with our own two eyes. So what is it that you truly called us here for?”

“You have a sharp wit, Prince Jaehaerys. A sharp wit indeed.” Mance gave Jae a smile. “We will prove our strength, and once we do, we wish to make an alliance with you.”

“An alliance?”

“Aye, the free folk will fight alongside you,” Mance confirmed.

“Fight alongside us?” Jaime chuckled. “The only enemies I see around are you.”

“Sometimes old enemies can become new friends. You will see your true enemies soon enough, that I have no doubt,” Mance spoke and his lips curled in a smile, one of those annoying ones that suggested that he knew more than they did.

“True enemies?” Jaehaerys asked. “You mean the Others?”

Mance nodded. “The Others. And not only them. The ones in the south too.”

Jaehaerys frowned, but before he could say anything the Greatjon snapped. “Enemies in the south? The only fools that dare to attack the land of dragons, are you! We had enough of your poppycock, wildling!” 

Lord Umber turned to leave but stopped when he saw that Jaehaerys hasn't moved and was looking at Mance thoughtfully. “You better not be thinking about this, boy!” the Greatjon spat angrily. “I will not approve of this folly. To ally ourselves with filthy wildlings! They are our enemy! My forefathers fought them for hundreds of years, many Umbers suffered by their hand! I won’t be breaking bread with them!”

“Your approval is yours to give, Lord Umber,” Jaehaerys spoke indifferently. “But your obedience belongs to me by right. And I will have it one way or another.”

“Are you threatening me, boy?” Umber growled and took a step towards Jaehaerys. 

Jaime moved between them swiftly. “One more step and I’ll carve you another arse, Umber!”

“Do you think I am some mad old king that a golden fool like you could slay, Kingslayer?” the Greatjon sneered. 

Just when it looked like the two fools would come to blows, a massive white-furred body appeared between them, startling both. Ghost barred his fangs silently and both the Greatjon and the Jaime stopped any movements and looked at the white beast warily. 

Everyone around stiffened, none of them have picked up the direwolf’s silent approach.

“That’s enough bickering. Keep your anger for our enemies,” Jaehaerys spoke evenly. 

In truth, he didn’t blame Lord Umber for his lack of trust. It was normal after all, the northern lord likely saw Jaehaerys as just another green boy that carried a sword only to give the belt ballast. 

While he might have appeared confident, Jaehaerys himself had his doubts. Would he make bad choices which will end up costing many Northmen lives? Perhaps having someone more experienced in charge would be better? 

Either way, his doubts were his own and he had to do his duty. The blood of the Kings of Winter and old Valyria ran through his veins, he wouldn’t show weakness in front of these people, no matter what he decided. 

“Return to the Wall. I wish to speak with Mance Rayder alone,” Jae ordered as soon as Jaime and Umber calmed down under Ghost’s glare. 

“Your Grace, I would advise against it,” Lord Commander Mormont finally spoke, after spending most of the meeting observing everything thoughtfully. “Don’t be fooled by Mance’s sweet tongue, he’s not as honourable as he seems.”

“I will be all right,” Jae said, as he buried his fingers in Ghost’s soft fur. The direwolf returned to his side as soon as he saw that the two fools wouldn’t continue making trouble. 

Mance Rayder looked at the direwolf for a few heartbeats then nodded and sent his men away.

Jaime and the others didn’t seem convinced. Even the Greatjon looked reluctant to leave. “You can stay close and watch over me,” he offered, since he knew that Jaime was unlikely to agree to leave him alone of this side of the Wall.

“What’s this southern enemy you speak of, Mance?” Jae asked as soon as everyone else was out of earshot.

“Some men who dressed and spoke weirdly came from the sea. They seemed quite interested to see us fight against you kneelers,” Mance said. “They even thought us how to build things. Things that are quite useful in a siege.”

“Things?” 

“I can’t tell you everything, lad,” Mance chuckled. “Some secrets are meant to be kept as surprises.” Jaehaerys didn’t like the sound of that. “From what I could gather, they plan to attack your kneeler kingdom from the South, while we are distracting you from the North,” the wildling king spoke seriously. “Unfortunately, the Others had other plans.”

“Do you know who they were?” When Mance shook his head, Jae continued: “I need some time to talk with my brother and uncle.”

Mance chuckled again, this time the sound that came out of his mouth was devoid of any mirth. “We both know that I can’t allow you that, lad,” the wildling said and shook his head. “The more we wait, the lesser our chances to keep our lives are. I know that you likely called the Northern houses to your aid. I also know that most of them are not here yet, or Brandon Stark would be here cursing me. And I know that, for some reason, there is no dragon in the sky. If you could, you would have flaunted him in front of my people to intimidate them. The fact that you didn’t make me assume that if we fight now, we would likely not have to worry about your dragon.”

“Assumption is the mother of all failures,” Jaehaerys said gravely. “Are you sure you wish to risk countless lives on a guess?”

“What choice do I have, lad?” Mance said in a frustrated voice. 

This whole mess confused Jae greatly, he didn’t think Mance Ryder was lying, yet how could he believe such a thing? 

And even if he did, what could he even do about it?

Jaehaerys sighed. “I shall speak with the lords and present them the situation as best as I can.”

Mance nodded, but they both knew that it was useless. The next time they would meet, they would likely try to kill each other.

“Just remember that, when the time comes, I must do what is best for my people, regardless of my own feelings,” Jaehaerys said as he turned around and walked towards the Wall.

“Don’t we all, lad? Don’t we all?” he heard from behind him.

* * *

“Come in!” he called. 

His uncle’s steward came in awkwardly, a tray with three cups and a large weathered copper teapot in his hands. 

“Your g-grace, L-Lord Commander, Maester Aemon,” the lad greeted, his voice and his chins trembling as he spoke. 

The steward walked nervously towards the small table they were sitting around as if he was walking on a tight piece of rope. 

Jaehaerys sighed and got up. “You may go.” He grabbed the tray from the boy’s hands before he would trip and drench them all in boiling tea.

The fat boy held the tray tightly, almost as if he was scared to let go, but quickly released it under Jae’s glare. “Thank you, y-your grace,” the lad bowed awkwardly trice and left, but not before he exhaled in relief.

“What is it with this lad?” Jaehaerys asked curiously as he refused Lord Mormont’s help and started filling two cups himself - for both his uncle and the Lord Commander. Welcoming steam rose from the hot tea. “Samwell, is it not?”

“Aye, my boy. Samwell Tarly,” his uncle answered.

“Tarly?” Jaehaerys frowned. “Any connection with the Horn Hill Tarlys?”

“He is Randyll Tarly’s son,” Lord Mormont explained.

“I thought Lord Tarly’s son is named Dickon?” Jaehaerys remembered giggling with Aegon and Rhaenys for hours when they first learned of the poor boy’s name. Who in the Seven Hells names a son after their appendage? 

“Aye, that’s his brother,” Lord Mormont answered. The veil of steam rising from the cup he was drinking from was unable to hide his grim look. 

“And what did steward Samwell do to end up here? If he’s some sort of ruffian, he certainly hides it well,” Jaehaerys asked curiously. The lad fit in at the Wall about as well as an aurochs fit in a glass garden. 

Maester Aemon raised his cup and blew in the hot beverage before taking a sip. “Apparently his father was not pleased with him being his heir and sent him here.”

Jae nodded like a dunce. It was not like his blind uncle could see him. “I imagine so, the lad doesn’t strike me as a great warrior, as the Tarlys pride themselves to be.”

“Men can be strong in different ways, my boy. A sharp mind can cut deeper than a sword,” Aemon advised. 

It was true enough, Jaehaerys mused. 

His uncle’s steward was the only one besides himself that he has ever seen using the rich library here in Castle Black. If there was a good thing about this godforsaken place, that was the library. Works as old as time were still available there, he doubted that even the Citadel was in possession of many of the books available in Castle Black. Some books were so old that Jaehaerys was even afraid to open them.

Jaehaerys had some men come over and start copying everything that was possible and then send them to Summerhall.

“I’ll make some arrangements for Samwell to study at the Citadel and forge a chain of his own. The Watch could use another maester,” Jaehaerys offered.

Maester Aemon gave him a pleased toothless smile from behind his cup as he sipped from it noisily.

Another knock came, and this time it was a dour thin man, with a long sharp face and a head full of grey hair that seemed out of place on one relatively young. “My apologies for the interruption, the Lord Commander is needed on top of the Wall.”

Jae frowned at the man’s words. _Did something happened with the wildlings?_ the prince wondered as he watched Lord Mormont excusing himself and walking towards the door. 

Jeor Mormont was an old man, with grey thinned hair, but he was still tall and strong and walked with purpose. A stern and confident man which inspired trust and loyalty from his men.

This version of Jeor Mormont was a far cry from the broken man Jae met some years back when the old man was still the lord of Bear Island.

Then Lord Mormont threw away his pride and begged Brandon Stark to spare his son’s life and allow him to take the black instead after the Bear Island’s heir was caught selling slaves. 

But Jae’s uncle was unbending and the Lord Commander’s heir found himself a head short.

Brandon Stark had many issues, and Jae knew that better than most. He lost count how many times he and his uncle argued over his indiscretions, but nobody could claim that Bradon Stark didn’t take his duties as the Lord of Winterfell seriously. He was a very competent lord and Jaehaerys has learned a lot from watching him in his years spent North.

Jeor Mormont ended up taking the black himself after that to wash away his house’s shame. 

Brandon Stark didn’t stay idle either, he moved swiftly and wedded his brother Benjen with Dacey Mormont, the heir of Bear Island.

“What do you think about this whole deal with the Others, uncle?” Jaehaerys asked as soon as the door closed behind the Lord Commander.

“Hmmm… They might seem silly stories, but you must remember that this wall was not build to keep away wildlings, my boy,” Maester Aemon answered after taking some time to sip the last of the tea from his cup. 

“You have the right of it, uncle,” Jae said as he refilled the old man’s cup. 

“We shouldn’t take these warnings lightly. There is great magic beyond this wall, just like there is great magic all around the world, regardless of what the Citadel wants us to believe.” Maester Aemon stopped talking so that he could blow some cold air to chill his new cup of tea. “It’s a shame really, the maesters were meant to dedicate their lives to studying mysteries, and yet they fight against the biggest mystery of all – magic.”

“Fight against magic?” Jae asked confused.

“Aye, my boy,” his uncle answered. “This link is rarer than a hen’s tooth these days,” Aemon said as he grabbed the foggy valyrian steel link on his chain with impressive precision.

“Why would they fight against magic?”

“The Conclave does not like things that they can’t understand and control,” Aemon said and shook his head in displeasure. “A bunch of fools, if you ask me.”

Jaehaerys wasn’t sure what to say. 

“I don’t even want to think about how many invaluable books that depicted magic in one form or another have been destroyed by the Citadel,” Aemon continued bitterly. “This world was always full of magic. Old magic at first. Children of the forest, giants, skinchangers, greenseers, the water witches of Rhyonar, the pathseekers of Nefer,” Aemon said, his lifeless eyes fixed wistfully on the ceiling as if he could remember the old days. “Then one day, it was said that a rock fell from the sky. And it brought with it a different kind of magic. Magic drawn from fire and darkness.”

“Our father told us this story,” Jaehaerys said thoughtfully. “He said that it split into a few pieces. One fell in the Great Empire of Dawn in the place that is now known as the Shrinking Sea. One in the thick forests of Sothoryos, and when it was found it released the great plague that killed almost everyone there. And one in Ulthos, where only ash and smoke remained in its wake. None fell in Westeros, it seems.”

“Perhaps it did and we just haven’t found it yet,” Aemon chuckled. “Your father was quite interested in these things.”

Indeed he was. “Have you meet my father?” Jae asked curiously.

“No, but we exchanged many letters before my eyes went bad. Rhaegar was particularly interested in the Others, you see. He believed that they would return soon.”

“He did?” Jaehaerys asked. But he wasn’t particularly surprised. King Rhaegar was a unique man, with a unique view of the world. 

“Aye, he was obsessed with a prophecy that claimed that our saviour will be born from our line. The prince that was promised, he called him,” the old man explained.

“I don’t care much for prophecies. I believe a man makes his own path.” Jaehaerys said firmly.

Aemon laughed. “Do you know what makes this prince that was promised special?”

“Does he fart thunder and piss lightning?” Jaehaerys jested. 

“That would be quite something, would it not?” His uncle gave him a toothless grin. “What makes the prince that was promised special is the fact that he is not bound to any destiny.”

Strangely, his fathers soft and melodic voice played back in Jaehaerys’ head after hearing Maester Aemon’s words: _‘You’re the song of ice and fire, my son. It’s a great blessing and a great curse. Your choices can save or doom everyone.’_

Rhaegar used to say those words to Jaehaerys quite often, but the prince hasn’t given them much thought. His father was in the habit of saying many strange things, after all.

“Your father believed that this saviour was your brother,” Aemon said, startling him from his thoughts.

“Is that right?” Jae asked, a trace of displeasure clear in his voice.

Aemon pursed his lips and remained silent for quite some time. 

“My boy,” the old maester finally spoke in a careful tone, “we Targaryens have a bloody history. Many of us found our end at the hand of our own kin. All because some coveted what it wasn’t theirs to begin with.”

“I assure you, uncle,” Jaehaerys interrupted Aemon coldly, “that if I will ever have issues with my brother, it won’t be over something that is rightfully his.” Jaehaerys was quite displeased with what the old man was insinuating.

Aemon nodded and chose to say nothing more, noticing that he has drawn Jaehaerys’ ire. An awkward silence fell between them, interrupted only by the sounds of Maester Aemon sipping tea.

The uncomfortable quiet spell was broken by another visitor. Ser Alliser Thorne came in and bowed deeply. “Your Highness, the Lord Commander asks for your presence on the Wall. He says that the wildlings are on the move.” 

Alliser Thorne was the captain of the royal guards that followed Jaehaerys in the North. He was a stern and hard man that couldn’t recognize a jest if it hit him in the face. 

But he was also very loyal and extremely competent. And there was nothing Jaehaerys valued more than loyalty and competence. 

Since Ser Alliser was a landless knight, and since Jaehaerys and Rhaenys didn’t want to lose him when his assignment was over, they decided to bestow upon him some lands tied to their estate around Summerhall. 

After Alliser Thorne received their offer his previous loyalty transformed into something that was close to fanaticism. It was no lie to say that the old knight worshipped Jaehaerys and Rhaenys. 

Jaehaerys didn’t know if he should be thankful or concerned. 

After the rebuild, Summerhall was no longer the vacation palace that it was before. It was now a grand castle tied to vast lands. A castle that wouldn’t lose against any other castle in the realm when it came to its own income.

Jaehaerys had his grandfather, Rickard Stark to thank for that. A castle with high income for his daughter’s son was one of his demands when Rhaegar asked for Lyanna’s hand.

Because his father often had a wistful look in his eyes when he spoke about his mother, Jaehaerys always assumed that they were deeply in love with each other. But in his years in Winterfell he learned differently. 

The North alongside a few other kingdoms planned to dethrone Aerys together, but Rhaegar somehow got wind on it. Jaehaerys’ father moved quickly and secured Lyanna’s hand, making the anti-Targaryen plans crumble and securing the North’s help against his father. 

Jaehaerys supposed that things were rarely as they seemed.

Jaehaerys made his excuses to Maester Aemon and headed towards the door. But before he could leave the old maester’s chambers he stopped and turned back towards his uncle: “What if this whole talk about the Others returning is not just words in the wind? What do we do then?”

“The only thing we can do, my boy,” Aemon answered calmly. “Our duty.”

* * *

As Jae reached the top of the Wall in the creaking iron cage, three men were already waiting there – Lord Mormont, Ser Jaime, and a young bony man, with pale blue eyes. Above them, a toothy sun was sitting mockingly, too lazy to do anything against the stabbing afternoon cold. 

“Prince Jaehaerys,” the young man nodded.

“Domeric,” Jaehaerys nodded back. 

When they returned from the parley, they found out that the troops from the Dreadfort led by Domeric Bolton reached the Wall. Jaehaerys was confused at first, but then he noticed that Domeric only brought horsemen - around 400 of them – which greatly shortened the travelling time.

The other Northern lords might not have taken Jae’s ravens that seriously and only sent the troops Jaehaerys demanded because of the prince’s status, but Domeric knew him well enough to know that if he bothered to summon them it was no light matter. 

The Bolton heir was Arya and Rickon’s cousin, he visited Winterfell fairly often and was quite familiar with Jaehaerys’ serious nature. So, he decided to bring only horses, in order to get to Castle Black as fast as possible.

And Jaehaerys was grateful for his thoughtfulness. 

“What happened?” Jaehaerys asked. 

Lord Mormont pointed towards the edge of the forest growing a thousand feet from the Wall. 

The wildlings camped there cut a sizeable amount of tall thick trees and were using the crude timber to build two massive wooden frames. 

Those wooden structures were concerning, but not nearly as concerning as the creatures helping the wildlings. 

Jaehaerys watched in awe as dozens of giants and mammoths worked hand in hand with the wildlings, helping them carry and move the heavy trunks they cut from the forest. 

The giants were large creatures with long arms, perhaps trice as tall as a man, covered in a shaggy pelt of fur. The mammoths the giants rode were even larger. They resembled the elephants Jaehaerys has seen in the Sealord’s menagerie when he visited Braavos, but unlike the elephants which had grey tanned skin, these mammoths were covered in thick white wool.

As they were watching the wildlings and giants hammering the wood without a break, they heard the sound of the iron cage returning on top of the Wall. The Greatjon Umber and Lord Halys Hornwood got off from it.

After doing some frowning while looking at the busy wildlings, Lord Umber’s eyes fell on Domeric Bolton. “Why are you here? Where is your father?”

Domeric stiffened at Lord Umber’s words. “I am the one in charge of the Bolton men,” he answered.

“Was your father sucked dry by his leeches and couldn’t come?” Umber asked, displeasure clear in his booming voice. 

“I am more than capable of leading my men,” Domeric spoke coldly.

Jaehaerys paid little attention to their bickering, his eyes were fixed on two pairs of mammoths. The mammoths, which were led by their tusks by two grey furred giants, were dragging two thick and very long wooden beams through the snow. Both were braced at one end by three pieces of wood that formed a triangle.

The prince gritted his teeth when he finally understood what the wildlings were building.

Next to him, the others were still arguing. 

“Capable?” the Greatjon snorted. “How many time have you led men in battle?” he asked mockingly. “You and others like you think yourselves great warriors because you have a fancy sword hanging on your belt, but I only see green boys.” As he spoke, Lord Umber glanced at Jaehaerys, making sure everybody understood what he meant.

“Watch your tongue, Umber!” Jaime was quick to defend Jaehaerys.

“Fuck off, Kingslayer! I only tell it as I see it!”

“My lords, let’s not argue amongst ourselves!” Lord Hornwood tried to pacify everyone with little success, as Jaime pushed him out of the way, nearly knocking him off his feet.

Anger filled Jaehaerys like water filled a waterskin drowning in a river. They had tens of thousands of wildlings, hundreds of giants and their mammoths and who knew what else to deal with and these fools were arguing between themselves like fishwives on a pier. 

He could feel the fire surging through his veins. His chest expanded. Under him the white puffy clouds moved around, boiling in fear of his wrath. He stretched his wings and his long neck and released a thunderous roar that made the skies tremble. The ice under his feet shook. Around him, everyone froze in fright. The only noise coming out of their mouths now were the breathing sounds that came out alongside their steaming breath. Beyond the Wall, the mammoths were so frightened that they started thrusting and running in all directions. The forest shook under their heavy steps, ice and snow fell from the shaking trees like ripe fruit at the end of summer. The giants were trying desperately to keep the mammoths carrying the beams from running around. The wildlings didn’t seem to notice any of that, they just stood there like flesh and bone statues, with their mouths opened and their eyes fixed on the sky.

“I had enough of your bickering,” Jaehaerys spoke, as he wrapped his hand around Dark Sister to quell his anger. Even he was surprised by how firm and cold his words came out of his mouth. It was as if they were ripped from the Great Wall itself. “If something is not to your liking, you can return to your mossy castles and go back to fondling your rocks for warmth. I’d rather have fewer men, than men that won’t obey. I have tens of thousands of wildlings to fight against, I have no time to fight against my own people too!”

None of them reacted at his words, so Jaehaerys set his eyes on Lord Umber since he was the one that was the most displeased with him. “Well? What’s going to be?” he asked challengingly as he glared coldly at the Northern lord. 

The Greatjon glared back silently and they ended up exchanging glares for an uncomfortable amount of time. Ultimately, Lord Umber realized that Jae won’t back down, gritted his teeth and nodded reluctantly. 

Jaehaerys nodded back. He wouldn’t dare to show it, but he was greatly relieved. The Umbers have brought the most men so far, losing them at this time would be a big blow.

They all watched in silence as the giants gathered the scared mammoths and restarted their work. It took about half of a dozen giants to lift one of those great beams.

“I wonder what they plan to build with all that timber?” Lord Umber questioned, scratching his thick beard.

“They are building two mangonels,” Jaehaerys answered emotionlessly. 

“Mangonels?” Domeric asked confused. The others were looking at Jaehaerys too.

“Look at those enforced beams,” Jaehaerys explained grimly, “they will tie a sling on one end and mount them on the wooden frames they just built.” Jaehaerys was Aegon’s spare, so he was taught everything there was to know about warfare and war weapons since he was young. The mangonel was basically a very simple version of the trebuchet. But instead of using counterweights, as the trebuchet did, the mangonel used men pulling ropes at one end. 

The others likely failed to recognize the mangonels being built in front of them because they were built at a much larger scale. Jaehaerys was certain that they planned to use giants to power them. If that was the case, the Wall was in grave danger.

It didn’t take long for the others to draw the same conclusion as Jaehaerys and gloom settled over their group.

Jaehaerys was more concerned than everyone. The mangonels were fairy simple siege weapons, but they should still be out of reach for the wildlings. 

That meant that Mance Rayder spoke truthfully. And if he wasn’t lying, then the other things he said were likely true. 

The Seven Kingdoms had enemies in the South, and more worryingly, the Others might have returned.

Even knowing all this, there was little that Jaehaerys could do about it. He couldn’t let the wildlings pass the Wall based on the words of a wildling. 

And he couldn’t let the Wall fall, no matter what.

Jaehaerys sighed. His uncle was right, after all.

He could only do his duty.


End file.
